After getting away from his cruel father's tyranny, Randall has to learn how to live again, and accept the person he was meant to be - with a little help of a local bartender...
*****
An empty shell is all what is left of twenty-five-yea...
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-Randall-
After we stepped into the bar, Cole gestured toward a lonely table at the back corner, and hesitantly, I went to take a seat. It was the closest table to the counter, but still pretty much hidden from the view. I was glad about it. My eyes were still red, so everyone could tell I'd been crying, and I just wanted to be left alone and not draw any attention to myself.
Cole went to get me the beer he promised and then left me alone. It took me a while to calm down and take a sip, and even longer to turn to look at Cole. He kept his promise and stayed away from me, but as I kept watching him, I saw him peering at me every now and then. He smiled whenever our eyes met, but I always looked away. Twice he brought me a new beer without saying a word.
I felt weird being there after swearing I wasn't going to have anything to do with the place and its owner. But at the same time... For some reason, I couldn't leave. I couldn't go home. I didn't want to even think about it. My breathing grew short if I thought about it.
So, I didn't think about it. I sat there in silence, keeping my eyes on the glass, listening to the sounds and conversations around me. At some point, Cole had a long, cheerful talk with someone, and I lost myself listening to his voice. He had a soothing voice, so I couldn't help but relax a little.
I had no idea what time it was, or how long I'd been there when the people started making their leave. The lights got dim, so I assumed Cole was closing up.
But I still couldn't leave. I just stared at my empty glass, waiting. For what...?
I heard the sounds of doors being locked and the footsteps coming my way. Cole walked past me, only to grab two new bottles before he returned to me.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked in a gentle voice.
I shook my head before I could even think about stopping myself.
"Aight."
He sat down, and I readied myself to tell him to mind his own business. He was going to ask what was wrong, right? Wrong. He opened the bottles, gave me the other one, and stayed silent. After a few good, long moments, I looked up at him. He was just staring at the table, taking a sip every now and then, looking like he could use some sleep.
Why was he not saying anything? Why were we drinking beer in a closed bar, not saying a word? He acted like it was perfectly fine that we sat at the same table but didn't even talk. I hadn't said a word to him in hours, so what the hell was going on? Just... What?
And he was supposed to be a chatty one...
Staying indifferent about his presence was getting harder and harder. I tried not to look at him, but more than once, I caught myself taking short glimpses of him. He seemed like he had completely forgotten my existence, but I had the feeling he did that on purpose. I tried to do the same, but when my bottle was finally empty, and all that beer I'd drank made me feel calmer than I normally was, I finally opened my mouth.
